Flowers
by andrastaie
Summary: Samson discovers Inquisitor Nathra Lavellan's penchant for gardening.


Birds chirped and sang as the morning light bathed Skyhold's garden in a warm glow. Nathra was, for the most part, alone as she moved about. Flitting like a hummingbird from plant to plant as she checked her herbs and flowers over. She stooped over the elfroot, pulling a few weeds away. She hummed to herself as she worked, occasional words breaking in as she pulled weeds and trimmed plants.

"So this is what the almighty Inquisitor does when she's not conquering nations."

Nathra squealed like a scared puppy, head snapping around quickly to see who'd disturbed her. Samson stood nearby, a smirk brightening his features. A relieved sigh escaped her lips, bewilderment melting away into a pleasant smile.

With a quick, quiet grace Nathra then moved to another area of the garden. Her attention drifted away from Samson as she looked over the white jasmine flowers, gently pulling a few off their vines.

"You expect I'd trust anyone else to do it?" she asked casually. Tossing a glance over her shoulder, she smiled again when he merely shrugged. "Mother Giselle," she continued, pulling a few more blooms off. "Wanted to turn the whole garden into a Chantry," she scoffed. She shook her head, lip curling at the mere thought. It disgusted her, just like everything else about the Chantry she'd learned.

Her ears twitched when she heard him grunt. Possibly in approval. Given what she knew of the man, she was inclined to believe such was the case. The idea helped ease the look of disgust off her face as she tucked the flowers into a pouch on her belt. Nathra turned then and glided across the garden to stand in front of her company.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" she asked. A sweet smile curled at her lips, long ears perking up ever so slightly as she peered at him. She clasped her hands behind her back, swaying gently back and forth between the balls and heels of her feet.

"Your arcanist," he drawled out. "She finished early."

Nathra's features brightened, a grin now splayed out across her face. She bounded away from him suddenly, stopping in front of the white daisies. When he didn't follow, she clucked her tongue with a sigh and walked back over to him. Samson's features twisted into one of confusion as she easily entwined her fingers with his.

He didn't move when she gave a gentle tug. And when she looked up at him, he was staring at their hands with a quizzical look on his features. Nathra stepped closer again, now staring between them as well.

"Did I do something wrong?" she asked. Her gaze went wide and apologetic as she looked between their hands and his face. With all the touching she often saw among shemlen, she'd spared not a second thought to the gesture.

"No," he answered slowly.

Samson lifted their hands, fanning his fingers out then curling them again. His gaze was a studious one as he repeated the action a few times. Nathra dared not move as she watched him go through his motions. Instead she opted to enjoy the brush of his calloused fingers against her own, marveling at how one with such large hands could be so gentle.

"Just a surprise," he shrugged.

His eyes narrowed as he wrapped his fingers about hers one final time, leaving them in place to finally meet her gaze. Nathra's lips twitched upward in a slight smile, a shy look at the unexpected reaction she'd earned herself.

"I guess not all you shems are as accustomed to this touching thing as I was lead to believe." She laughed, albeit awkwardly. Her freckled cheeks tinted just the slightest shade of pink as she gave his hand a tug again. And this time, he followed her to the small arrangement of daisies.

Samson was chuckling as Nathra tugged him along. A sound, she found, to be surprisingly full of mirth. With a smirk, she hummed her approval. She crouched down, shocked when the gentle grasp on her hand wasn't immediately released. His chuckle faded into a raspy cough as he released her hand. Yet in spite of this he still watched with great interest in her task. As she regained control of her other hand, she pulled her selected flower free.

"These are my favorite," she chirped cheerfully.

Once she'd pulled a few more buds free, she flashed a toothy grin at the man when she spun about with a small bouquet of the daisies. They were white, for the most part. On a few, pale pink tipped the edges of the petals.

One of his dark brows quirked upward as she pressed the small collection into his hands. "This is how you'd have me "serve the Inquisition"?" Despite the question, the smirk that twitched at the corners of his lips spoke volumes more.

Nathra shushed him, but the edge of it vanished as it gave way to a laugh. Moving to turn away, she stopped as Samson caught one arm. Slowly, Nathra looked from the hand on her arm and back to him. He released her arm in favor of pulling free one of the daisies in the bouquet.

"What are you doing?"

He didn't answer her, instead he pushed her hair behind one ear and set one of the daisies in place. Pink colored her cheeks as she watched him. A tantalizing leer on his lips as he handed the bouquet back.

"Your Commander is expecting me."

Samson departed without another word, not even so much as a glance in her direction as the soldiers escorted him to the main hall.

Nathra blinked, absently gliding her fingers over the flower behind her ear. The sounds of approaching Chantry sisters broke her reverie all too soon. She quickly pushed the remaining flowers into an empty pouch. Scurrying out of the garden and toward the kitchens, she tried all the while to get her blushing under control.


End file.
